


Can I kiss you?

by djhedy



Series: what if we kissed... and we met on tinder [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: A lot of kissing, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Asexuality, Cool, Demisexuality, Fluid Sexuality, Found Family, He doesn't know, Implied Sexual Content, Is hot, Kissing, M/M, POV Andrew Minyard, Soft Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Tinder, Touching, Working Stuff Out, all that good stuff, and so is lots of kissing, because communication is sexy, it's ok not to know, lets go, mostly this is kissing, ok?, so soft, together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:27:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22653994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/djhedy/pseuds/djhedy
Summary: Andrew stares down at the phone in his hand, grips Neil’s coat to his chest a little tighter. The words are on the screen, but they’ve left his head entirely. He feels his eyebrows draw together a little, tries to sense it out.Can I kiss you?-epilogue to likes: exy, can be enjoyed as a standalone if you like first kisses, new relationships, and communication about sexy times
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Series: what if we kissed... and we met on tinder [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629568
Comments: 58
Kudos: 944





	Can I kiss you?

**Author's Note:**

> what is wrong with me? i hear you ask. well, i start to explain  
> anyway i couldn't get this out my head so here you are. kind of a prose epilogue to "likes: exy". can be read as a standalone, if you dont care about "likes: exy" spoilers. if you do, read that first!  
> if you are just here for kissing, read up to the ***. if you are here for implied sexual content, continue on my friends. i aint here to shame you.

Andrew stares down at the phone in his hand, grips Neil’s coat to his chest a little tighter. The words are on the screen, but they’ve left his head entirely. He feels his eyebrows draw together a little, tries to sense it out.

_Can I kiss you?_

Andrew taps out a reply, lifts his eyes to look at the exit, door just metres in front of him. Imagines Neil standing somewhere on the other side, real, entirely too real.

Andrew holds out one hand and pushes open the door. He turns to the right to see a fidgety Neil, phone in one hand, nervous energy – or maybe he’s just cold, moving his balance back and forth, hair sticking up everywhere and he hasn’t even touched it yet – that he’s had all evening seemingly not even close to dissipating. A row of taxis and stumbling drunk bodies navigating the late hour all fall away and Andrew is still until someone asks him to move out the way, and then Neil’s head comes up, and they lock on each other and it’s just.

Andrew takes a step forward.

This whole evening has been ridiculous, and this was never meant to be a _thing_ , and he knew – even coming into this – even pushing for it – even with Neil’s stupid messages _I’m kinda desperate to meet you_ ringing through his head every time he’s hesitated tonight – he didn’t really think this would work.

“Andrew?”

He comes to a stop a foot in front of Neil. Holds out his coat. Neil takes it, careful to avoid touching him, shrugs it on without looking away.

This was just supposed to be a joke. Something to do for an hour, the first back and forth on tinder that had actually held his attention. For a week. A month. Even tonight. Neil didn’t know what he wanted, and even if he did, it wasn’t going to be something like Andrew, and Neil was supposed to work that out.

He looks at him now, face impossibly bright, eyes bluer than Andrew had imagined, staring, lips pressed tight together in nerves and hands pressing into the curves of his elbows, like he’s warming his body, like he’s cold, like he doesn’t care Andrew isn’t what he should want.

Andrew lifts one hand, and then stops, lets it fall back to his side. Puts his hands in his pockets. Feels his body grow tight. Feels like an idiot.

This isn’t meant to be a thing. Neil isn’t meant to want this. Andrew had said nothing physical. He’d said that because he wasn’t sure he could be trusted. Because he knew Neil didn’t want that. Because Andrew had never dated without sex before, and isn’t sure if he wants to. If he even could. Because even after all this time he knows he’s broken, and he doesn’t want Neil to let him tear either of them open. To let Andrew push this. To be like any of them.

But

_Can I kiss you_

Maybe Neil sees something in Andrew’s hesitation, because he unfolds his own arms, lifts his hand and brushes just his knuckles across the air of Andrew’s cheek. Whispers, “Can I?”

Andrew feels uncomfortable, but only briefly. He answers the warring arguments in his mind with a swift _why fucking not_ , nods tightly, feels Neil’s fist uncurl against his skin until his fingers are slipping behind his head and into his hair, until he’s tilting Andrew’s face up just a little, and Andrew thinks _shit oh shit_ , and the last thing he sees is Neil’s lips tilting down slow, before he closes his eyes, and presses forward.

It’s just a brush, to start. Like an opening sentence. Like Neil’s taking Andrew’s penchant for reservation and certainty and consent too far. And it’s impossibly hot. And Andrew brushes back, pulls his hands out of his pockets and fists his them into the sides of Neil’s coat, to hold on, to tug a yes before Neil’s second hand joins his first, fingers carding softly through Andrew’s hair, like they’ve been wondering how it felt.

Andrew doesn’t want to take the conversation further. Could live in this hot breath of lips, could murmur against Neil forever, fingers tightening in the wool of Neil’s coat, Neil’s fingers scratching lightly against his scalp, sending small shivers down his spine.

He’s never kissed anyone before without an agenda. And he doesn’t quite know what to do with that.

Andrew has just been a body, for years. Has been content to give and take, under his intricate web of rules and limits. Has been around long enough to know how this works.

It’s never worked like this before.

Neil’s lips are soft, and warm, and Andrew can’t help but hum against them a little. Neil pulls away before Andrew can give in to the temptation to push his tongue against his mouth, and Andrew breathes out a little before he opens his eyes.

Neil’s eyes are closed, and he’s smirking, and that – Andrew feels hot, and irritated, and is frowning a little as Neil opens his eyes. Neil sees his expression and then flat out grins, and Andrew pulls away, turning Neil’s head away with a hand to his cheek. “Good lord,” he mutters, turning to lean against the wall, letting nonchalance cover up for the fact that he’s unsteady on his feet.

Neil leans next to him, still grinning. “Hey,” he says. “Well. That was nice.”

“You,” Andrew says, voice low and a little wrecked, he knows, pausing to clear his throat, fingers itching for a cigarette, playing with the pack in his pocket, but knowing they’re minutes away from this night ending, “are ridiculous.”

Neil doesn’t reply, just hums, for some reason _pleased_ by this response, shifts his body imperceptibly closer to Andrew so that they’re lined up. Andrew’s heart is a live thing in his chest, and he doesn’t want Neil to know.

On the other hand.

“You,” he starts again, trying to affect the right level of nonchalant irritation into his voice, usually so possible because it’s the truth, “gave the impression of not having much experience.”

Neil turns his head to look at him. “I don’t,” he says, looking a bit confused.

Andrew doesn’t meet his eyes. “Liar.”

And then Neil realises what he means, and he’s grinning again, and blushing a little and says, “Wow, hey. Was that a compliment. Do I win?”

And Andrew pushes off without a word to find a cab, Neil’s quiet, reserved laughter following behind.

Out loud Andrew talks to the driver, but in his head he’s memorising the sound.

He leans back against the wall, turns his phone over and over between his fingers, stares upwards, sun long gone, dark blue fingers stretching across the sky.

He’s tired, if he’s honest. This is a lot of people, and he can’t remember the last time he actually tried so hard.

He’s not sure how well it’s going. Knows he isn’t the easiest person to get on with. He’s this way on purpose, has never had much energy for trivial interactions, for people who aren’t worth his time, who he’ll never see again. But. He knows this is different.

He’s thinking of questions he could ask the quiet one – Renee – maybe the only one he might not get a headache from saying more than a few words to – when the door at the top of the steps swings open.

Andrew wishes he’d lit a cigarette. He’d have something to do with his hands.

Neil’s in front of him in a heartbeat, and Andrew says, “You ever hurt from smiling that much.”

Neil shakes his head. “If I did though it would be your fault.” Andrew gives him an unimpressed look. Neil says, “I bet it takes more work to look so unaffected all the time.”

“I don’t just _look_ unaffected.”

“Liar.” Neil is moving closer, those blue eyes lit up and wide and bearing down on Andrew and.

Andrew feels like he’s spent all evening watching Neil’s mouth, remembering tiny brushes, soft pink lips, a hand in his hair.

He lifts a hand to Neil’s chest, and Neil stills under it. Andrew says, “Yes?”

And Neil nods, and Andrew pushes away from the wall, turns with one hand on Neil’s chest and the other guiding his arm, walks him back against it.

Neil’s eyes never leave his. His hands come up though, hold Andrew’s elbows, scrabble a little like he wants him closer.

Andrew rakes his eyes over Neil’s face, hovers over his scar, doesn’t let the spark of anger that flares up show on his face, leans in to Neil’s ear instead, and flicks a tongue against the shell. Neil hums, fingers tightening, and Andrew smirks a little, moves the hand that’s on Neil’s forearm slowly upwards, over his shoulder, rests on his neck. He says, “That damn mouth.”

“Huh?”

Andrew curls his fingers under the collar of Neil’s shirt, ghosts them across his collarbone, pushes close to his upper body so he can feel him shiver.

“It’s too clever for your own good,” Andrew says, quiet, but not a whisper, darkens his tone and feeds it straight into Neil’s ear, licks his earlobe. _God_. Neil tastes of. He doesn’t know. Bites it gently.

Neil says, “Fuck,” and Andrew wonders if he’s going too far, but Neil’s still pulling at his elbows from some unconscious desire to close the non-existent space between them. Andrew keeps his hips a few inches back. Keeps it that way.

“Did you know what you were doing,” Andrew continues, mouthing along Neil’s jaw now, desperate to move his hand further down Neil’s tshirt but pulling it out instead, pulling Neil’s shirt open to his shoulder, just to show Neil he can, just to hear Neil gasp with some quiet unknown anticipation. Andrew lets the cold air, and his fingers, graze over Neil’s bared neck, takes his lips back up Neil’s jaw to his ear.

“Did you?”

“Um,” says Neil, one finger rubbing slightly desperate circles into Andrew’s arm. “Know what.”

“What you were doing.” Andrew rubs his nose along the outside of Neil’s ear. Kisses it gently.

“No,” Neil says, voice barely even a whisper now, playing along, but barely. Andrew wonders how long it will take him to break.

“Really,” Andrew says. “ _Save it for me, Andrew_ ,” he teases his mouth back along Neil’s jawline and this time tilts it down to the skin of his exposed neck, “ _don’t let him be as interesting as me, Andrew._ ”

“God,” says Neil when Andrew nips him lightly, teeth dragging, pulling a little skin between his lips and letting it go.

“You’re the worst,” mutters Andrew, lifting his head, considering, mouthing back along Neil’s face and pausing to kiss his burn scar, wonders what it would feel like under his tongue, lifts a little onto his toes to flatten his tongue against Neil’s cheek and moves away again in the same breath. But Neil’s just gazing at him. Stunned.

Good.

“I really didn’t know,” Neil mutters, like he thinks he’s being told off.

Good.

“I think you did,” Andrew says, and he lets the teasing ring out a little clearer than he normally would. He knows Neil didn’t know. The idiot is fucking clueless at best, hopeless at worst, and it’s – surprisingly fucking endearing. Because Neil is also honest, and open, and warm, and – Andrew shakes his head. He knows, and Neil knows, but he’s in control here, and Neil wants it, and that’s too tempting to resist. “I think you knew exactly what you were doing. I think you wanted me to spend that date thinking of you.” Andrew wants to keep watching Neil, especially when his eyes spark a little with amusement, but he also wants to keep tasting him, so he lowers his mouth to Neil’s still exposed neck and kisses him instead.

Neil’s fingers are hesitant, slow, but firm, as they skate off Andrew’s elbows and dig into his waist.

Andrew says, quieter than before, “No lower,” and feels Neil nod against him.

He sucks a little at Neil’s skin, and Neil gasps, and Andrew says, “I think you knew I would be sitting there, with asshole exy guy, thinking about your words, picturing your face, wondering what your lips would feel like when they were spewing nonsense against my mouth.”

Neil sucks in a breath and says, a little nonsensically, “Come here then,” and, when Andrew is working harder to leave a mark, Neil’s skin warm and pulsing under his mouth, a little desperately, “Find out.”

And Andrew’s holding back – god, he’s holding back, and he’s feeling a bit proud of himself – but he’s not made of steel, and his head lifts almost of its own accord, lips slotting hot and heavy against Neil’s mouth, one hand moving up swiftly to cradle his head so Andrew can slam them backwards.

Neil’s hands move up Andrew’s back now, and he lets himself shudder against Neil’s chest, wants to push into his mouth, wants, wants, kisses his lips, desperately, feeling like he doesn’t know how to move forward, doesn’t want to move backward, doesn’t know where he is here –

And then Neil’s tongue pushes against Andrew’s lips, and he parts them, and it’s like stars bursting against his chest, like the waves of their desire crashing against some unknown shore, and Neil’s hands move back down, pulling at Andrew’s lower back, but Andrew pulls away, shakes his head, feels Neil’s hands relax, keeps his hips’ two inches breathing room, and pushes back into Neil’s mouth.

Neil is pushy, and gracious, and desperate, and just takes it and takes it and takes it all at once. And Andrew pulls away to kiss at the corner of his mouth, to breathe, to say, “You taste the way you talk,” before he’s even sorted out what he’s saying, and Neil’s laughing a little, arms wrapping around Andrew’s back in a hold, and Andrew finds he doesn’t mind at all, moves to kiss him again, both hands cupping Neil’s head now, elbows tight against his body under the circle of Neil’s arms, and just kisses him and kisses him and kisses him.

***

Andrew finally gave in a month into Neil. _Ashamed, Andrew?_ Hadn’t worked. Let Neil think Andrew was ashamed of him. That was entertaining at least. Gifs of puppy dog eyes did nothing, as all they made Andrew think of was steady blue eyes staring down at the screen, probably thinking themselves very clever. If they’d wanted Andrew to react, they should have sent images of fire instead. _You dare bring dogs into our conversation, heathen_ , Andrew had replied, one hand in King’s fur, his mind hopefully conjuring up the sound of reserved laughter.

But _oh, I get it. You’re afraid._

Had made Andrew frown. _I’m really not._

_Yeah, I get it now. No fair enough. Aww._

_This is a pathetic tactic, Neil, and it won’t work_

_No, you’re right, I should stop pushing. On account of how afraid you are._

_Neil._

_Let me meet your family you c o w a r d_

And Nicky and Aaron hadn’t been any better. Kevin, having gone from an enjoyable-enough three-night-stand, to having a stick up his ass about the whole Neil thing, to being weirdly determined to stick around for some sex-free reason that Andrew hadn’t yet put the energy into working out, had gone so far as to turn up to Andrew’s flat one night, dvd in one hand, only to realise Andrew’s family were half way through putting plates out, had at least had the decency to look a little sheepish when he said, “Oh, are you having dinner? Can I join you?”

Had answered Nicky’s questions about Kevin-and-Andrew with a raised eyebrow, “If Andrew hasn’t told you why should I?” but then had ruined it by adding, “Do you guys watch exy?”

Andrew’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he tried to ignore it, but his eyes had flickered down, and Nicky, next to him, was irritatingly observant. “Hot date?”

“It’s that guy he’s always texting,” Aaron said, not pausing in his food intake, eyes maddeningly focused on his plate so that he couldn’t see the glare Andrew was sending him.

“What guy?” demanded Nicky.

Aaron lifted his head then to roll his eyes. “You haven’t noticed?”

“I mean,” Nicky said, looking genuinely concerned, “I figured he was texting a few guys. I mean, Kevin! For example. What do you mean _that guy_.” He turned to look at Andrew, grinning now. “What _guy_.”

“Neil,” said Kevin, before Andrew could throw the nearest object at him.

So he’d been needled, had given in, had invited Neil round the next time Aaron and Nicky were coming over for dinner, had told Kevin in no uncertain terms that he was not invited. Had gritted out, when Kevin had given him a bit of a disappointed look, _maybe next time_. Neil knew Kevin was still hanging around, but he didn’t need _that_ interaction or _that_ conversation yet.

It would be the first time he’d introduced anyone to them.

The first time Neil came to his flat.

They’d been dating a month, mostly going to bars or diners or the movies or Neil’s flat. Neil was oddly weird about wanting Andrew round his friends all the time, his little smirk always present when Andrew turned his face round to glare at him whenever Matt said something idiotic.

Andrew was fine with it. They were Neil’s family. And Neil did this weird thing around them, something relaxed and floppy about his body, and he usually let Andrew snake an arm around his waist, invited him into his bed afterwards, kissed him for hours sometimes until self-control fought its way into Andrew’s head, and he pulled away, Neil sighing against his lips, and ordered a cab and went home.

Andrew was getting into the routine of it. And they talked openly about it. Had to, according to Andrew’s therapist. After one particularly excruciating conversation about sexual honesty, one week and one therapy appointment into Neil, Andrew had gone straight to his afterwards, had dragged Neil away from the ever-present group of friends with one hand, shut the bedroom door behind them. Had let Neil kiss him into the bed, waited until they were lying side by side before pulling away and saying, “I want to talk.”

A week in and maybe it was no surprise Neil’s face had gone a little crestfallen, so Andrew had huffed into his mouth, had muttered, “Idiot,” with accidental fondness against Neil’s lips until their arms came around each other again.

Kissed some more until, self-satisfied, Neil had pulled away with a smile and said, “What about?”

“Sex.”

It was awkward, and Neil looked like he’d never had this conversation before in his life, but Andrew had pushed forward.

“I want it, and you don’t,” he said, the words coming out rehearsed-sounding, Neil’s eyes steady on Andrew’s lips, like he didn’t want to miss anything important. “I am never going to make you do anything you do not want to do. You are going to tell me if you ever want anything more. I am not waiting for you to want sex. This, what we’re doing now, is ok, it is enough, and – I am never going to cheat on you. And –” he hesitated. Tightened his arm around Neil’s waist and tilted his head up to look in his eyes. “Sometimes I am going to think about you when I’m in the shower.”

Neil’s eyes lit up a little, flicked up to Andrew’s, lips curling in amusement, or, something else maybe. “Yeah?”

“Is that alright.” Andrew hated this. Hated himself. Hated having a body, sometimes. Sometimes felt trapped by it. He hates remembering wrapping a quiet hand around himself, late at night or early in the morning, begging his body to not need this.

It’s different now, of course. Half a decade of therapy and a dozen men and working through separating horror from desire.

He knows it’s ok, really, to want it. Knows Neil thinks it’s ok too. But he finds himself wishing he didn’t anyway, images of Neil underneath him always rising to his mind, unbidden, in the shower, working himself to the edge, half-on fire half-furious.

His therapist had said _talk to him_.

Neil said, “Yes Andrew,” all huffy, like he wasn’t sure what to do with it, “That’s alright.” They kissed some more and then Neil pulled away, thoughtful. “I know you like clarity. So. Your terms are good. I like them. I’m sorry I can’t…” he stopped. “You probably don’t want me to be sorry. I’ll tell you if it changes. You’ll tell me too? If you um…” he hesitates, looking like he knows Andrew will be annoyed. “If you can’t do this anymore?”

Andrew narrows his eyes at him. “Yes,” he grits out, annoyed.

Neil smiles. “Ok then. You can think about me.” He shifts his hands into Andrew’s hair. “When you’re in the shower.” Andrew thinks Neil knows his voice is low, and firm against Andrew’s ear, tightens his hands around Neil’s waist in revenge, kisses him until it’s clear the conversation is over.

But a few days later Neil had said, “What do you think about?”

And Andrew, one spoon of ice cream in his mouth, perched on a stool at the counter in a public fucking diner for god’s sake, stilling and turning round in an over-the-top show of _we’re in fucking public Neil_ , had looked back at him and asked, “Why whatever do you mean.”

Neil grinned.

And later that evening, when they were in Andrew’s car, kissing over the gearstick – a convenience only in that it kept certain parts of Andrew as far away from certain parts of Neil as possible, something Andrew was learning on his own, but it didn’t hurt to have physical aids – Neil had repeated the question, mouth hot against Andrew’s, hands warm and solid round his shoulders.

“In the shower you mean,” Andrew muttered, brain hazy with desire, mouth tired with kissing, hands busy pulling at Neil’s hair, waist, neck, ear, kissing down his jaw, barely putting thought to words.

“Yeah,” Neil said, lifting his head to the side so Andrew could kiss his neck. “Tell me what you think about.”

“This,” Andrew said, biting down hard, hands firm on Neil so that he could jolt but he couldn’t move, holding him in place, memorising the feel of teeth and tongue on skin. “This,” he said again, licking a little further down and pulling Neil’s shirt down so he could run his tongue along Neil’s collarbone. “This,” he whispered as he ran one hand up the inside of Neil’s tshirt, something he’d never done before, eyes on Neil’s the whole time just in case, fingers scratching lightly up Neil’s side, playing at the hairs of Neil’s armpit. God he wanted to smell every inch of him. He ran the hand up and round the back of Neil, his shirt shucking up , feeling along his shoulder blades, watching Neil’s eyes wide with pleasure, so he saw the moment he gave in, leaned forward and pushed into Andrew’s mouth.

And then, completely out of nowhere, Neil said, “Not this?” and pushed his free hand up Andrew’s thigh.

Andrew made a noise. Later, he would replay it over and over, wonder at just how undignified it came out. He pulled his hand out of Neil’s clothing like lightning, wrapped his hand around Neil’s fist. “No,” he said. And Neil stopped. Just like that.

And they looked at each other, a few inches apart now, panting lightly, and Andrew softened his grip, ashamed, angry, irritated, and tried to soften his voice as he said, “Not that.”

And Neil, eyes ducking a little, said, “Sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” Andrew said, lifting Neil’s hand off his thigh and linking their fingers together. “You stopped. It’s ok.” But Neil still wasn’t looking at him. Andrew sighed, and brushed a kiss against his scar. “Neil. It’s ok. I was just surprised. I wasn’t expecting –”

“Me neither,” said Neil, shrugging a little into Andrew, allowing the sides of their heads to rest together for a moment. “Sorry.”

“Shut up,” Andrew said, and then smirked against Neil’s jaw, “or I’ll make you shut up.”

“Didn’t work the first time,” said Neil with obvious relief.

“They say insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results.” Andrew let his hand snake below Neil’s tshirt again, and Neil shifted forwards.

“Hakuna matata,” said Neil.

Andrew pulled his mouth along Neil’s jaw and against his mouth and pulled away to look at him and said, “I’m going to kill Boyd for showing you that fucking movie,” and let Neil’s laughter drag him into another kiss.

And now they’re sitting across from Nicky and Aaron, like a fucking meet the parents movie, and Andrew is staying as still and quiet as possible, and so is Aaron, though he imagines for different reasons. Andrew has one eye on his pasta, and one on Nicky, and so far the conversation is ok. They’re talking about math, and Germany, and Nicky’s fiancée Erik, and Neil is being disappointingly polite about the whole thing, even in the face of the looks Andrew keeps shooting him, and Nicky’s behaving as well, taking Neil’s no to a second glass of wine at face value, perhaps noticing Neil has only had a couple of sips. Once Andrew’s drained his glass he swaps them over to a look of amusement on Neil’s face. “Oh look, more wine,” Andrew says, lifting the stolen glass to his mouth, and Neil laughs.

Nicky says, “You guys are cute,” and Andrew drains the rest of the wine in an effort to keep himself from chucking the whole thing over his cousin.

“We’re really not,” says Neil, and steers the conversation away again.

It’s only at the end of the night when they get separated – Andrew moving to one corner of the room to find a game he wants to lend Aaron, Aaron following him, hearing Nicky’s quiet but excited voice as he and Neil lean against the counter at the kitchen end of his small flat. Aaron says, “Mistake.”

And Andrew looks up, raises his eyebrows. “What.”

Aaron smirks and nods over to the other side of the room. Nicky is gesturing enthusiastically and shoots a look at Andrew and he distinctly hears him say, “–better than Kevin,” and then Andrew is across the room in two strides and shoving Nicky’s coat at him and opening the door.

Nicky grins and says, “Goodnight Andrew! Goodnight _Neil_ ,” with some sort of tone in his voice, and Aaron just smirks at Andrew, and doesn’t say anything at all, and then they’re gone, and Andrew is left with only his annoyance, and an idiot.

An idiot who is currently plastering himself delicately along Andrew’s back, hands coming up to rest at his hips, mouth finding his ear to say, “Now that wasn’t so bad.”

Andrew huffs, and turns around, and gives Neil a look and says, “Wasn’t it.”

Neil grins. “I like them. Well, Nicky’s ok. Aaron didn’t speak to me.”

Andrew shrugs. “I didn’t think he would.”

“Hmm.” Neil plays at the hem of Andrew’s hoody. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“No.” Andrew kisses Neil once, says, “Do you need to go.”

“No.” And Andrew guides them towards the bedroom, trying to be smooth, but they knock against a table and bounce a little off the frame of the bedroom door and Neil is laughing so Andrew decides it doesn’t really matter.

In bed, they’re side by side like always, and Andrew is trying to maintain a respectable distance, taking it slow tonight, just wanting to linger in this, having Neil in his bed, putting aside all sorts of images for later, running a hand through his hair, and a tongue into his mouth, when Neil says, “Can I come closer?”

And it’s just, well. It’s. Andrew looks at him. Doesn’t know what to say.

Neil smirks. “Stunned into silence?”

And Andrew glares. Says, “Yes,” wanting to give permission even though he’s not sure what it’s for.

And Neil leans up a little on his elbow, shifts his legs closer to Andrew’s, gently guides him with one hand on his chest onto his back, plasters his side against Andrew’s hip, and kisses him from above.

It’s. Not horrible. It’s. One of Neil’s hands on Andrew’s shoulder, not pushy, but gentle, resting, warm. Fingers curious but steady. Forearm an inch above Andrew’s chest. It’s Neil’s other hand gripping Andrew’s bicep, Andrew’s hands in Neil’s hair, still and unmoving from uncertainty, for now content to let Neil kiss him, to be the one in charge for once, to see where this goes. To lose himself utterly.

It’s Neil’s hips pressed against Andrew’s side. It’s feeling nothing there at all. It’s feeling smug when he realises he isn’t disappointed. That he really is ok with this. It’s licking more enthusiastically into Neil’s mouth with that knowledge. That he’s here. That he’s not taking anything Neil doesn’t want to give.

It’s Neil’s hand running down Andrew’s arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps, and then his waist, gripping his solid hip, hand feeling tiny against it, saying, “Andrew can I,” and Andrew just nodding against Neil’s lips, just letting himself be kissed, _Yes Neil, yes, anything_.

It’s Neil pulling Andrew’s hip off the bed and aligning them together, mid-air; it’s Andrew thinking _fuck this_ and pulling Neil on top of him, for maybe the first time ever content and even wanting the weight of this to push him further over the edge.

It’s knowing Neil can feel Andrew hard against him, and it not mattering.

Neil says, “Are you _smiling_.”

And Andrew says, “No. What absurd ideas you come up with.”

But he thinks maybe he is, and Neil is pulling away, and has an odd look on his face, hands braced into the mattress either side of Andrew’s head. Andrew’s hands fist in Neil’s hair. “Shut up.”

Neil grins. Licks a little at the corner of Andrew’s mouth, like he thinks he’s making a point. “Hmm,” Neil says. “Is this ok?”

Andrew nods, closes his eyes when Neil nips at his jaw. “Yes, Neil.”

“Is this ok?” Neil lifts his hips away a little and down again, and Andrew feels the pressure _everywhere_ , and lets out a little sound he’ll hate himself for later. “Andrew?”

“Yes,” he whispers.

“Hmm,” Neil says, a curious tone to his voice, and Andrew opens his eyes when Neil lifts himself off Andrew, arranging himself along Andrew’s side, up on one elbow, one leg draped over his lower legs, looking definitely distinctly curious in one direction.

Andrew feels annoyed. Or wanting. Or fed up. Or done. Or ready to go. He says, “What are you doing.”

“Is this ok?” Neil hovers a hand over Andrew’s knee. Looks at Andrew. Andrew nods. Neil places his hand there, denim doing little to stop the feeling of _Neil touching him_ somewhere he’d never touched him before. Neil hums again, moving his hand up a few inches. Rests on Andrew’s thigh, warmth pouring into him. “Is this ok?”

Andrew has no idea what’s going on. No idea at all. And he wants all of it. Mutters, “Yes.” Feels embarrassed and thrilled all at once at the intention, wishes his face was buried in Neil’s hair, in his mouth, somewhere he could close his eyes and breathe in, but this is good too, Neil’s face a couple of inches away, eyes downwards.

“Is this ok?” and Andrew doesn’t need to look to know where Neil’s hand is.

He says, “Yes,” one last time, before crushing Neil’s mouth against his, aware of Neil’s fumbling hand undoing his jeans, lifting his hips as Neil pushes them down and out the way, pulling his body closer over him so that no one has to look, so that they can keep themselves buried in this, in hot kisses and hot hands and Andrew tugging Neil’s hair, as Neil wraps a hand around him.

Neil starts moving and Andrew shudders into his mouth. “ _Shit_.” Andrew bites Neil’s bottom lip, chews it a little between his teeth, swallows Neil’s gasp, moans when Neil licks back into his mouth. Wants to tease, wants to say _what on earth is going on_ , but he can’t, he can’t, all he can think about is Neil’s hand, strong and unwavering, working against him.

“Mm.” Neil pulls away a little, kissing around Andrew’s face, resting his mouth against Andrew’s ear. “Is that good?”

“Yes,” Andrew breathes, shaky, one hand moving carelessly up and down Neil’s back, face tight and body on fire and Neil’s hands _everywhere_.

“Yeah?”

“ _Yes_.”

“Hmm.” Neil does something with his hand, speeds up a little, slows down, changes the pressure. At first Andrew thinks he’s adjusting, experimenting, but then he realises –

“For someone with little interest in this you’re a fucking tease.”

Andrew can feel Neil smiling against his ear, his heartbeat pounding in his chest. Oh god he’s so close. _God._ Andrew turns to bury his eyes against Neil’s cheek. Neil is smiling. But his words are. His words. “I am. Interested in this.” Tugs hard, Andrew spilling all up against his skin, against Neil’s body, breath catching in his chest. “It’s you, Andrew. It’s you.”

And Andrew spills over the edge, jolting up into Neil’s body, letting Neil hold him through it, brain just clearing out.

They lie together for a few minutes afterwards, Neil a little breathless too, and as coherent thought returns to him, alongside the realisation that _this_ just happened, with _Neil_ , fucking _Neil_ , comes the realisation that Neil is half-hard against him.

Half-hard isn’t nothing, and Andrew doesn’t know whether to offer. He clears his throat, and chokes out. “Neil –”

But Neil scoots away a little, wiping his hand on the sheet, is busy arranging himself on Andrew’s chest. “I’m good,” he says, and sounds it, and it could be an answer to any question, but Andrew takes it, takes Neil, wraps two arms around him and sighs into his hair.

“Well, fuck, Neil.”

“Yeah?”

“What on earth is wrong with you,” Andrew says, giving into temptation.

Neil shrugs against him. “Wanted to.”

“Clearly,” Andrew says, keeping the relief tight inside his chest, the only clue in the kiss he plants against Neil’s head. Breathes in against his hair. Hums. “Honestly.”

“What?”

“ _That_.”

“What?” He can hear Neil gearing up for a fight. “I think you liked it.”

“Don’t accuse me of such things.” Andrew kisses his hair again.

“I think you like _me_.”

“Slander.”

Neil lifts his head to smirk at him. “Maybe I just wanted to know what you’d be thinking about, the next time you’re in the shower.

Andrew pulls Neil’s face towards him. Kisses him. “Hmm. Maybe.”

“ _Maybe_?”

But Andrew doesn’t want to tease. Doesn’t want Neil to think he’s not enough. Doesn’t want Neil to think he has to do more than that, or even that, ever again, if he doesn’t want to. So he just says, “Yes, Neil,” a little irritated.

And Neil grins against him. “I enjoyed that,” he says, pulling Andrew up over him so that Neil is underneath, stomachs and hands sticky against each other and no one giving a damn.

“Really,” Andrew drawls, “Couldn’t tell.”

“Might do it again sometime.”

“Ok.”

“Might not.”

“That’s ok.”

Neil hums against him, pleased, and sure, like he believes Andrew, and Andrew hates that, honestly. Hates Neil. Says, “You’re honestly the absolute worst. I hate you. I hate all of this.” He kisses him on the nose. “Fuck off.”

Neil grins. “I’ve met your family now. It’s kind of a big deal, you know, meeting the family. That’s what I’ve heard. I think it could be awkward, if you leave me now. Nicky would be devastated.” Neil kisses him gently and then rearranges them again so that they’re just holding each other, and Andrew bends to pull up the covers. Neil doesn’t comment, or tense, or pull away, just shrugs out of his jeans and throws them out the side of the bed. Gets closer to Andrew again.

“Well I do hate to devastate Nicky,” Andrew says, only half a mind on what he’s saying, the other half on the shape of Neil’s body against his.

“Family is so important.”

“Yeh.” Andrew reaches out a hand and batters off the light, somehow.

“Go to sleep Andrew.”

“Mm.” Andrew kisses Neil’s forehead. Looks at him for a second longer, thinks _this will ruin me_ , lets his lips curl against Neil’s skin, lets himself fall into it.

**Author's Note:**

> ok that really is it, thank you for indulging me in this brain nugget  
> ao3, please let me dedicate this to the people who subscribed to likes: exy, to anyone who left kudos or commented or yelled nonsense at me. LET ME.  
> also to my lovely fox crew <3  
> also to neil for being the softest creature and andrew for being just the most patient ridiculous caring fucker  
> god i've gone soft. eurgh. angst scheduled for next week xxx


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